


The End

by missigma



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Blood, Gen, Gore, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1752152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missigma/pseuds/missigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago in the Old World, a much younger Rythian ventured into the End for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Myranium, for proofreading this for me!
> 
> This is essentially my ultimate headcanon post for Rythian, a story that addresses what I believe happened to him before we encounter him as a mage who lives in the desert. I do have some alternate ideas after Rythian mentioned another scenario, but for now this will do. Possibly the first of two parts.

The clock had recently struck midnight when Rythian finally unfolded himself from his chair and set his reading down on the floor. He rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger, before rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shake his exhaustion. Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, he stood and made his way to the broad wooden table that dominated his study. Hurriedly he cleared its surface, piling the books and papers that covered it against its legs.

The mage set his notes on the tabletop, beside the great tome of magic he had been studying. He briskly shuffled through the papers, before drawing a single sheet from the rest. Crumpling the paper in his overeager hands, Rythian assembled a row of vials of blaze powder along the edge of the table. Finally, he retrieved the small carved chest that housed a dozen Ender pearls, withdrawing the first orb he had taken from an Enderman months ago. He lost himself in the memory as he brushed away the dust.

Rythian had never understood how he had managed to provoke the creature when he had dared to venture outside the city’s walls at night. He had not even seen the Enderman until it had been on top of him, its fingers slashing across his chest. The mage stumbled back, and that single missed step sent him crashing down the riverbank and into the water. He scrabbled against the mossy rocks, desperately struggling to right himself again.

Standing knee deep in the river, Rythian finally managed to draw his sword. He scanned the bank, expecting the Enderman to be on him again at any second. Eyes straining in the dark, he spun around, fearing the creature would appear behind him. Nothing stirred in the night.

A sharp sound pierced the darkness and the mage turned towards it. He raised his blade, but still nothing appeared before him. It was a moment more before he heard the rising, staticky screech over the sounds of the river. The screech rose louder until the sound itself seemed to surround him.

The creature abruptly materialized at the water’s edge, its mouth agape as it screamed. Rythian readied himself for its attack, grasping his sword with both of his hands. The Enderman paced along the edge of the river, but it did not lunge for him. Realization suddenly struck Rythian and he cursed himself for taking so long to figure it out. He was in water; he was safe. He glanced back up at the Enderman and frowned. The creature might not be able to touch him, but it seemed unlikely that it would give up.

Rythian could hardly stay in the water all night. As it was, only adrenaline was keeping him from shivering. He would have to slay the Enderman if he wanted to live. Again, he prepared himself, sizing the creature up while he was still protected by the river.

Launching himself upwards, Rythian sliced into the Enderman’s bony hand. It hissed, drawing back the extremity. The mage buried his blade in the creature’s stomach. It staggered and fell, though it still slashed weakly at him as he withdrew his blade. He paused over the Enderman and found its eyes fixed on him, brightly violet though it was certainly dying. Rythian took pity on the creature and cut its throat.

The mage stumbled back, still staring at the dark corpse that lay in a pool of glowing lavender fluid. He wiped his blade on his cloak as he carefully backed away from the creature. When he turned his back, he ran to the city, feet pounding up the raw gravel to the main road. Rythian found his friend the scientist and brought him out to the riverbank.

Lalna had been fascinated, immediately kneeling beside the corpse. He dipped his fingers into the now deep purple liquid that had begun to seep into the sandy soil. Even though Rythian had killed the creature himself, he still cringed when Lalna opened the creature from collar bone to stomach. His gloved fingers carefully slipped within the chest cavity, gently pulling out a small orb. “Here,” Lalna had lifted the pearl, holding it out to Rythian. “This should be yours.” He seemed reluctant to let it go, though it had been Rythian’s conquest.

Months had passed, bringing many more Endermen crowding forth from the desert, and with them a dozen more ender pearls came into Rythian’s possession. Lalna had sought a way to kill them, as had the other scientists and engineers, but even death did not seem to slow the steady wave of monsters that now stalked even the streets within the city walls.

Instead, Rythian hoped to find their very source and destroy it. He had spent weeks in his study of the Endermen, nose deep in old tomes as he sought knowledge of their origin. Finally, he had found a volume that described the End and how to find a stronghold where he could enter that other dimension, though there was no description of what he might find when he left the Bright Lands.

The mage had assembled all the ingredients, which now left only the ritual. Carefully, he infused each ender pearl with blaze powder, waiting as the pupil slowly appeared in the center of each orb. Each newly awoken Eye of Ender seemed to glow from the inside, a new energy stirring inside them. Rythian tucked each eye safely in a pouch at his waist. Strapping his sword to his back, Rythian cast around for any other supplies he might need. He plucked a torch from its sconce on the wall, and set out into the night.

Once the city wall was at his back, he drew an Eye of Ender from the pouch and tossed it up into the air. The orb rose up, and drifted towards the west. For a moment it hung in the sky, glowing with a soft green light before slowly settling back to the ground.

Rythian followed the path the Eye of Ender had indicated, glad for his torch to light the way. He trekked across the desert, threading his way through the low hills and deep arroyos. Every few minutes he would again heft the orb into the air to check that he remained on course.

The Eye of Ender led him into a series of caverns. His torchlight only illuminated the edge of the dark chambers, and the echoes of his footsteps were the only true measure of their vastness. The mage kept close to the cavern’s walls, careful of the slick rock underfoot. Though he drew his sword, for the moment Rythian did not see any creatures of the night as he descended into the blackness below ground. Soon he found himself in an abandoned mineshaft, though the Eye of Ender easily guided him through the network of ancient passageways.

The mage trailed his hand along the hewn stone, pausing when he spotted loose stone bricks to his left. Turning a corner, he found that the narrow mineshaft bisected a larger chamber. Pivoting, he surveyed the space, noting that the layout of the stronghold appeared to be just the same as his book had described it. Windows barred with iron looked out into the underground darkness, while pools of lava gave the room an eerie glow. At the entrance to room was a small archway, partially dismantled by a forgotten miner ignorant of the purpose of this place.

At the center of the chamber stood the object of Rythian’s search, a large, rounded frame built out of porous rock, suspended over a pool of lava. Sockets were spaced evenly around the portal frame, three on each side. More than half of them were empty, though a few contained Eyes of Ender just the same as those Rythian had created.

Pressing his lips together nervously, the mage approached the frame. The heat of the wide pit of lava surged towards his face, the air rushing upwards in its haste to rise. Rythian put his hand to his hip and drew an Eye of Ender from his pouch. Raising the orb up, he pressed it into nearest socket.

The Eye of Ender trembled under his fingertips before finally settling into the home it had been straining to reach since the mage had first set out. Circling around the frame, Rythian filled the remaining sockets with more Eyes of Ender, using seven in total. As he placed the last sphere into the apparatus, he looked up at the portal frame. Briefly, a lavender spark sputtered at the center of the empty frame, before rapidly expanding into an inky black portal.

Slowly, Rythian made his way up the short set of steps that led to the mouth of the portal. Putting his hand on the hilt of his sword, he inched out onto the portal frame. The mage looked into the blackness flecked with blue stars and suddenly felt as if he was standing at the edge of a cliff with no ground beneath him. Swallowing, he stepped forwards and immediately plummeted into the portal.

For a split second Rythian was convinced that the portal would fail and that soon he would feel the molten heat of the lava, but nothing more than frigid air raced towards him. His torch was quickly ripped from his grasp, the flame already extinguished by winds of the void. Screwing his eyes shut against the swirling chaos around him, the mage fell through nothingness.

Suddenly, a plain of grey rock seemed to fly up out of the darkness. Before the mage could make any move to try to protect himself, he slammed into the ground. Rythian tumbled a few feet, finally coming to a stop at the base of a low hill. For a few seconds he remained still, trying to gather himself. He pushed himself up, hissing quietly as he inspected the scrapes on his right elbow and along the outside of his right thigh, pushing back the torn edges of his clothing.

The wounds stung fiercely but they were not worth the trouble of healing. So, gingerly, the mage pushed himself to his feet, brushing the dust from his hands. He looked around him, trying to guess which direction he should start towards, but instead found the eyes of an Enderman. Rythian immediately ducked his head, eyes fixed on the brittle rock beneath his feet. Desperately he hoped that the creature had been too far away to take offense, but quickly realized he had been too late. Already the creature had begun to scream, the sound rising steadily in pitch.

Freeing his sword from its sheath, Rythian again met the gaze of the Enderman. By now, it was running towards him, its strangely long limbs propelling it steadily forwards. A few meters away, it abruptly disappeared, though its howl continued to hang in the air.

The short pulse of the creature’s teleport was the only warning Rythian had before the Enderman lunged at his right side. With a sweep of his blade, the mage cut into the creature’s forearms. Dodging away from the Enderman’s clumsy slash, Rythian stabbed his blade up under its ribcage.

The creature staggered, and quickly crumpled when Rythian drew his sword from its flesh. No sooner had he removed his blade from the Enderman, another had leapt upon him. Caught off guard, the mage lost his grip on his weapon as the creature knocked him off his feet.

The stone crumbled beneath him as he struggled with the second Enderman. He barely managed to turn away from a swipe of its hand, the long claws flashing past his cheek. Rythian reached out, trying to grab his sword from the ground, but the Enderman seized him by his shoulder, its claws sinking into his muscle.

Twisting his body to the side, Rythian managed to grasp the hilt of his sword with his free hand. His first swing fell short as the Enderman leaned back, but Rythian cut deep into the creature’s side with the second, and it finally recoiled. Claws ripping through his flesh, the Enderman fell back, allowing Rythian to deliver a final blow.

Gasping, Rythian pushed the corpse of the Enderman off of him and carefully sat up. Blood was already flowing steadily down his arm, and he could not help but swear as he inspected the damage that had been done to his left shoulder. Hand shaking, the mage put his fingers just below the largest wound.

Carefully, he wove a few small enchantments, one to stop the bleeding, another to close the wounds, and one more to dull the pain. He did not dare to try to heal himself completely, knowing that it was too early in his journey to risk exhausting himself. Cradling his arm against his chest, Rythian slowly found his feet.

Before him rose a great mountain, bursting out of an otherwise largely flat landscape. Something about the mountain seemed unnatural, even from this distance. However, there seemed to be nowhere else to go, so sheathing his sword the mage began towards the peaks, still clutching at his wounded arm.

As he drew closer to the mountain, Rythian slowly began to understand what the landmark was. The sharp black peaks were towers that protruded from the grey rock, the cavern near the base was an entrance, and the shadowy alcoves cut into the rock were windows. It seemed that the whole structure was the remains of a grand palace, crusted with grey sediment and slowly sinking further into the earth.

It seemed to take somewhere near an hour for the mage to finally reach what had once been a grand door, all the wood long since rotted from the iron frame. As he took his first steps onto the black marble of the entrance hall, he caught sight of two Endermen in the shadows. Immediately Rythian turned his gaze to the floor, unwilling to risk provoking the creatures again.

The entryway fed into a great hall, the ceiling rising to house a vast gallery on the second floor. In an alcove the end of the hall stood a lone figure with a brilliant lavender form that dispersed the surrounding gloom. Rythian made his way to the light, still careful to keep his eyes low lest he again lock eyes with an Enderman. Even now, in the corner of his eye, he could see them flitting through the shadows. They wove their narrow limbs through the latticed facades that masked doorways that led to side chambers, and leaned over the balconies of the gallery above as they craned their slender necks to observe them.

Pausing at the steps that led up to the alcove the mage cautiously raised his head to look upon the glowing being. A woman stood before him, her body translucent against the blackness of the yawning archway behind her. She was barefoot and wore a heavy cloak over her simple clothes. Her face was shrouded by a thin veil held in place by a sinister-looking iron crown that peaked into small spires that curled in to rest against her skull.

“Do you know who I am, traveler?” the woman asked, shifting back her long cloak so that she could put her hands on her hips.

“No,” Rythian answered, catching himself staring at her disproportionately lengthy limbs, her fingers tipped with narrow claws.

“I am the Queen of the End,” she proclaimed, extending one spider-like hand towards him. The mage again looked over the extremity, wondering if he was expected to bend his knee and kiss her hand. He did neither, and soon enough she returned her hand to her side, seeming slightly disappointed he had refused to engage in the expected pageantry. “How did you come here?” she asked next, turning away from him.

“I found a portal in the Bright Lands,” he replied shortly, too busy rehearsing his next reply to waste much detail on his answer.

“Why did you come?” was the next question, just as Rythian had hoped.

“In the Bright Lands, your people,” he chose the word carefully, “are overwhelming us.” The mage paused, trying to gauge the Queen’s reaction, but she remained emotionless. “If there was anything that we could do to prevent bloodshed, then I think we should try to pursue it,” he finished, suddenly wondering why he had decided to appoint himself representative of his entire dimension.

“You would?” the Queen cocked her head to the side. Rythian swallowed, slowly beginning to realize that she was not interested in his speech. “Why should I believe that you are sincere when you have so much blood on your hands?”

The mage did not reply, so the Queen went on, a smile sneaking onto her lips. “I hope you didn’t think that I was unaware that you have killed many that were under my protection, some even here in the End.”

“I’ve only ever killed in defense of myself or the defense of others,” Rythian answered, indignation slipping into his voice. He would have continued, but instead narrowed his eyes as he thought he saw something stir in the darkness of the alcove behind her.

“I think we should be frank with one another,” the Queen continued. “If I refused your negotiations, you planned to kill me.” Rythian began to protest, but the words fell from his lips as a massive scaled head lunged out of the alcove. He raised his eyes to look at the great creature that now loomed out of the shadows, the faded lights of the throne room making its slick black scales gleam. Two curling horns protruded from its head, both seemingly forged from iron. 

The sheer size of the creature was what made the dragon truly impressive. From where he stood, Rythian guessed that the dragon’s head alone was nearly as tall as he was. As it leaned down, he remained frozen in place, watching breathlessly as its massive jaws opened, showing teeth shaped like knives.

Slipping back into the shadows, the creature curled around the Queen, its amethyst eyes fixed on the mage. She rested back against the dragon’s chest, and for a brief moment her transparent body flickered. It took a moment longer for Rythian to understand what he was seeing. The Queen and the dragon were one being, and the dragon was her true body. The image of the Queen smiled again, flashing sharp teeth, as she watched understanding cross his features.

“Now that we understand one another, I think you should leave,” the Queen suggested with a snarl. But before Rythian could retreat, he found himself hoisted off his feet. He struggled with his invisible bonds, but made no progress against them.

The Queen’s translucent image grasped his jaw, her claws resting gently on his cheeks. “You would destroy my kingdom, and my people.” Wordlessly Rythian moved his lips, but did not speak, finally recognizing that she had decided his fate as soon as he had made his presence in the End known.

Once more, the mage tried to break free from the energy holding him aloft, his arms trapped near his sides and his spine curved backwards by an unseen force. He only managed to send another wave of agony through his shoulder. Gritting his teeth at the fresh pain, he waited for her to issue his sentence, fully expecting the Queen herself to rend his life from his body.

Her claws pierced the flesh of his cheeks with terrifying ease. Rythian screamed, an awful sound that he had no hope of controlling. For all that Rythian thought he had prepared himself, with murmured enchantments and steely resolve, her claws ripped through his defenses immediately. The ward he wore on his finger was useless as she tore through his flesh. Reaching his lips, the Queen finally pulled her claws from his mangled visage.

Her own essence, colorful streamers of violet hues and shadowy greys, seeped into his wounds. Blood was beginning to seep from his cheeks, streaming down his throat to soak his clothing. The mage hung from his invisible bonds, his body limp though he remained conscious. The trickles of essence encircled him, cocooning him in her magic.

“Escort him home,” she ordered. Reluctantly, a trio of Endermen emerged from a narrow alcove. Each was careful to avoid treading too close to the Queen as they surrounded the glowing orb that contained the mage. Raising her voice until she could be heard throughout the entire palace, she again ordered: “All of you, escort him home.”

The translucent image of the Queen dispersed as the dragon retreated back into the alcove. Moments later, she laboriously ascended into the dark sky above the castle, wings beating heavily against the still air. She circled over the long procession of Endermen, watching as the mass of dark forms trickled across the rocky plain to the portal she had created.


End file.
